


The Shadow Of A Doubt

by taichara



Category: Romancing SaGa: Minstrel Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: Gray is not completely sure his adventure's actually over.
Kudos: 3





	The Shadow Of A Doubt

_Weird sword, but I can still use it. It might even be worth it after all the running around._

Gray studied the blade in the question for a long moment. Balanced across his knees as he sat tailor-fashion, the ancient falcata looked ancient no more -- with its brassy blade gleaming in the lamplight, it looked sharp enough to cleave the wind. Or a soul?

Whatever, the details didn't matter. What mattered was that he didn't hear the sword's voice in his head any more, which meant that who or _whatever_ the beast inside it really was, he'd put paid to it for that attempt to pull his strings.

_No one makes my decisions for me and no one's going to use me as a puppet. My life's my own._

But -- was it? Or was there some lingering influence he couldn't predict? Because -- so Gray muttered to himself -- he wouldn't say _couldn't detect_ , not when he was still sporting his unexpected magical wardrobe change. What a wierd side-effect, but okay.

Eh.

Shrugging, Gray dug out a wooden phial of camillia oil and a clean rag. If he was going to stare at the thing it might as well get a good wash, and who knew if it could rust all over again now. Nice, meditative task, sword-polishing; quiet, repetitive, gave you time to think if you wanted it.

Time enough to replay the sword-demon's entire last dramatic speech in his head. Enough to go over the whole battle with it, too, and there was just one little thing …

_Why'd I stab the carcass through the heart, anyway? It would've been more efficent to lop the thing's head off._

Gray paused, a sheen of oil puddling on the blade from the now-still rag. Good question, self. Why run through a dying sword-demon when that oh-so-coincidentally transmuted the sword into a whole new form?

_And marked me with the results._

_Huh. Think I'll go find a bath -- and a change of clothes._

It could be coincidence, of course; hardly the first time he'd acted on first impulse, was highly unlikely to be the last. But, still.

Still, Gray wanted a soak and a change, so the rest of his sword-polishing was dispatched with abrupt efficiency and the blade -- the "Demonbrand", now _that_ was an ominious name, come to think of it -- sheathed and stowed away. That was enough of that. Scrubbing now, and maybe digging out a few coins to get fed out in the pub.

Maybe that minstrel might be around, even; he usually was. Maybe he'd have a useful story or two about demons, swords and attempted possessions. Or something.

Eh. Seemed as good an idea as any.

But first, that bath.


End file.
